An Ode to the Regulars At Your Local Dive Bar

Ahh there’s nothing like going out for drink at your local dive. From sticky bars, to wood-paneled floors, and all the cheap drinks you can take down, everyone has a favorite “single dollar sign” spot to imbibe the night away. It’s truly no frills, all beer comes bottled and every cocktail is served in the same glass… (using the word “cocktail” is generous, it’s mostly old ice, juice and whatever bottom shelf throat destroyer your crusty bartender decides to mix in). Ask for a seltzer or a hard kombucha in this place and they’d smack you right out the door.

But there’s nothing quite like the seedy locals. And I’m not talking about when you’re out on the town on a Friday night. I’m talking about your Tuesday evening regulars. These alcoholics are the life and soul of all the drunken shenanigans that go on in the neighborhood. Whether you’re in a big city or a rural town, or been to a dive bar once or one thousand times, you’ll be sure to find these same types of people in any dive bar you go.

The Glassy Eyed Drunk – This guy (probably wearing a flannel shirt) has been sitting, quietly staring at the TV for the last two hours straight. While SportsCenter has already ran through the same segment four times, Randy has already sneakily put down six beers. He hasn’t moved a muscle, yet he’s the most efficient drinker on the planet. Wait, do you hear something ringing? It’s Randy’s double Otterboxed smartphone that’s utility clipped onto his belt. Seems to be his ex-wife calling. Too bad Randy’s in the zone, and won’t be leaving any time soon. This man is on a mission to damage his liver and his relationships.

The Karaoke Queen – Make way for the star of the show!! It may be Tuesday night at this dive, but it’s Primetime in Vegas for this Karaoke Queen. She’s gotta let everyone know she’s got the pipes, no matter how horrible they may be. She’s queueing up ALL of Abba’s 1979 album Voulez Vouz and making damn sure we give her a “man after midnight.” This is the Karaoke Queen’s world and we’re just living in it. Watch as she takes the cordless microphone and struts through the bar gracefully (aka drunkenly) caressing every patron with the essence of Celine Dion and the scent of cheap perfume and a lifetime of Marlboro Reds embedded in her Walmart cocktail dress.

The Blacked Out Single Woman – Ahhhh Becky. Leather skinned with bleach blonde hair and an excessive amount of eyeliner. She’s usually over 45 and wearing a sequined NFL team shirt, Becky is blacked out, and has absolutely no idea where she is, yet she knows she’s having an amazing time. In between nodding off from her BAC of .24, she’s loud, rowdy, and currently FaceTiming every girlfriend from her hometown of Fresno. She might make a move on you, she might spit right in your face. Who knows? Becky is a certified wild card.

F. Scott Fitzgeralds – These guys will just tell you story after story after story and nine times out of ten they make little to no coherent sense because they are so blacked out they can barely remember major, important details. Definitely try your best to avoid, unless you want to be stuck for forty minutes in an awkward one way conversation you can’t get out of.

The Journeyman – This guys seems sober? Well guess what, he’s been here since three in the afternoon and had had enough liquor to kill a rural Russian village. Just another day in the life of The Journeyman.

The Pool Hustler – You bet your ass this guy brought his own glove and pool cue to the bar. He owns the table… he runs the table. He’s literally been cruising solo through doubles opponents for the last four hours and shows no signs of taking it easy on anyone. Clint takes every shot with the utmost seriousness. Life or death. He’s got a reputation to uphold. The stakes have never been higher for this hardo. Good luck beating him.

Mr. DoorDash – This guy should definitely NOT be driving, yet since you’ve been there, he’s made about three trips to various local fast food joints for some tummy settlers (this bar obviously doesn’t serve food). Hell, he even brought some McChickens for Becky (dive bar romance abrewing?). Maybe ask him to pick you up some pizza on his next run.

The Rowdy Fratholes – The coolest kids at the nearby high school just got fake IDs and guess what, they’re making their first night out on the town at your local dive bar. Good thing the bouncers or bartenders don’t give a shit because Chad and Tommy are rolling hot in their varsity jackets, ready for all the spoils of adulthood. Just don’t let their horribly fragile high school junior girlfriends see Becky rubbing up on em. Last thing we need is a full on bar brawl between Leather-faced Becky (you know she can throw ’em) and the entire Varsity cheerleading squad Snap chatted to everyone on Chad’s best friend’s list.

The Reader – You ever wonder how someone can sit at a crowded, dark bar with a stiff cocktail and cruise through two-hundred pages of a novel? Me neither, and I’ve witnessed this phenomenon on more occasions than I care to recollect. You’ll be sure to find The Reader posted up in that tiny corner where the bar meets the back wall. Just don’t disturb him, and you’ll be fine.

The Most Eligible Bachelor – This is the guy going around to literally every chick in the place and laying all his finest chum. You can be eighteen or eighty, it doesn’t matter to this guy who lets the anxiety of all his past failed relationships fuel every encounter with a woman he ever has. For some reason, Mr. Smooth-talking blabbermouth is either dressed impeccably well in a three piece suit, or horrible like he just got off the night shift as a cattle-wrangling forklift operator. There’s absolutely no in between.

Townies – Ahhh the life and soul of the bar, the repeat customers. The ones who are there night in and night out making sure this bar pays its rent. This bar wouldn’t be able to survive without them. And to them, we take a drink.